


Late Night

by lemonfish



Series: Heartbeats and Brainwaves [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonfish/pseuds/lemonfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crucifix has no effect on him, of course. Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal-Duke of Richelieu, wouldn’t be able to do his job as a man of the cloth and First Minister of France if all the vampiric myths were true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night

The crucifix has no effect on him, of course. Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal-Duke of Richelieu, wouldn’t be able to do his job as a man of the cloth and First Minister of France if all the vampiric myths were true. 

Some of his qualities do make his job easier, however. Glamouring a prince here and a duke there eases the passage of decrees and the forming of alliances. But Richelieu is already a charming, clever man underneath it all, even without the glamour; more often than not, he doesn’t need to exercise his supernatural powers to get his way, a fact that he is exceedingly proud of. His successes in the advancement of France politically and economically are achieved mostly by his own skill.

Being the first minister takes up so much of his time and energy that he doesn’t feed on humans often. Actually, he can’t remember the last time he did so. Instead, he subsists on animal blood delivered by his trusted servant Jussac, who knows the truth about Richelieu’s … condition and chooses to serve him anyway. He doesn’t want to look into it; he accepts Jussac’s loyalty for the gift that it is.

Any other desires and urges are mostly satisfied in the way he essentially runs France and its affairs single-handedly. For Richelieu, the rush of trying to stave off war from five different borders while ensuring that Paris is still getting a good supply of grain after a drought is sustenance enough.

He does truly care about France; it is his homeland, after all, and he will do everything in this power to see his nation become great. Even if it takes centuries.

Which, if this upstart Captain of the Musketeers keeps insisting that his musketeers be given free rein to wreak havoc on the Cardinal’s well-laid plans, it just might.

“I believe _Your Eminence_ does not recognize the unique advantages of using a team of Musketeers instead of a pack of Red Guards untrained for infiltration,” Captain Treville says from between gritted teeth.

“ _Captain_ ,” Richelieu says with equal vehemence, “it is not I who has misapprehended the requirements of this situation. This plan has been in progress for months. I cannot allow you to swoop in at this last minute and introduce a completely new factor into it! The whole plan could fall apart!”

“We will find out soon enough.”

Richelieu’s jaw drops. Realizing that looking like a shocked corpse does not do him any favours, he bares his teeth instead. “Treville, what have you done?” he asks in quiet anger.

“I’ve sent my — what did you call them, my ‘four troublemakers’? — ahead of your men. By daybreak they should have switched out the deeds and all of Blanc’s foreign holdings shall belong to the crown, and they may even meet your men on their way back,” Treville says, looking too smug for Richelieu’s comfort.

It takes all of Richelieu’s self-control to keep his fangs from coming out. 

Treville takes advantage of this speechlessness. “If there is nothing else you need from me, I bid you good evening,” he says with a mocking bow and a wink. Then he’s out the door.

Richelieu watches him leave. It would be so easy to chase him down, put his mouth to his neck, and bite down, sucking the life force out of the damned captain. He hasn’t felt the urge to feed for decades, yet this infuriating man makes his blood boil and pushes him close to the brink. In their last few years of working together, Treville has always stirred up his instincts: rage, hunger, want …

Well, that last one is new.

Richelieu puts that thought to one side and bites down angrily on a piece of cheese. It lacks a little something, but it will have to do for now.

* * *

A week or so later, with no small amount of satisfaction, Richelieu hears the stamping of military boots from a distance, followed by his office doors being flung violently open.

He continues writing his letter, trying his best not to smirk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks off-handedly.

“You threw half my regiment in prison!” Treville shouts. He slams his fists on Richelieu’s desk, toppling an inkwell. “If this is your revenge on me —”

“Why would I need to take revenge on you? Your plan worked, I got my way, the coffers of France have been replenished. I should have no reason to be angry,” Richelieu says innocently, finally looking up into the blazing blue eyes staring him down.

That was a mistake. Richelieu wonders if this is what it feels like to be in thrall to somebody, because now he cannot look away. Treville holds his gaze. For a moment they are both silent. Richelieu’s mind drifts to more prurient thoughts.

Treville breaks the silence and looks away. “Release my men; they’ve done nothing wrong,” he says.

Richelieu shakes himself from his reverie and stands up. “If they are in prison, they must have done something to warrant their current situation.” He hates himself for what he’s about to do next, but he needs Treville to be gone so he can gather his thoughts. Treville is too much of a distraction. He leans toward the captain, willing him to look at him again so he can glamour him into leaving.

“Don’t even think of trying your tricks on me,” Treville spits.

Richelieu is speechless. Again. This seems to happen often when Treville is involved. But now, Treville has basically said that he knows Richelieu is a vampire. It’s rather more serious.

“How did you know?” he asks quietly. 

“I’ve had suspicions for a while. But they weren’t confirmed until just now.”

Richelieu slumps back in his chair, head in his hands. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His life is in Treville’s hands now. “What will you do?”

Treville looks confused. “I … I wasn’t going to do anything.”

Richelieu, with an inhuman speed, stands up and faces Treville. “You’ve just discovered that your greatest enemy is an abomination! You expect me to believe that you are not going to run off to the king and get me out of your way once and for all?”

“Are you angry _because_ I’m not signing you over for execution?” Treville asks, almost amused.

“Yes! No!” Now Richelieu is the one who’s confused. He’s standing too close to Treville. His nostrils are full with the scent of the captain: sweat, musk, gunpowder. An undercurrent of desire, suppressed for so long, is slowly washing away his initial anger.

“Cardinal, if it took me this long to discover your secret, you can rest assured nobody else on earth even has an inkling. I do not wish to see —”

Whatever it was Treville did not wish to see, Richelieu never finds out. He’s already bent down to capture Treville’s lips with his own.

All of a sudden, all the desire Richelieu has spent decades controlling comes bursting out of him. He needs Treville on him like he needs air. This newfound desire is stronger than any urge to feed that he’s ever had. It’s intoxicating.

While Treville was so taken aback at first that he had no response to Richelieu’s lips on his, he regained his bearings and kissed Richelieu back, hands carding through the taller man's hair.

They break off for air after a while, breathing heavily, foreheads touching.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” Richelieu says.

Treville’s smile falls. Richelieu is annoyed; he wants to put that smile back on his face. 

“Come to the Palais-Cardinal tonight. I’m sure we will have matters of national importance to discuss at length.”

It works. Richelieu can feel Treville’s face curl up in a smile even as they kiss again.

They break apart when they hear approaching footsteps. Jussac opens the office door. “You’re wanted at the palace, Cardinal.”

Richelieu turns to Treville. “I shall postpone our meeting until then. Captain.”

“What about my men?”

Richelieu is embarrassed to think that he's forgotten all about the damned regiment. “I shall send orders for their immediate release.”

“So it was revenge after all?” Treville asks, smirking. He doesn't wait for a response; he nods to the Cardinal and Jussac and heads for the door to leave.

Richelieu bristles at Treville's tweaking and briefly entertains the thought of glamouring him just enough that he walks into the door, but dismisses it. One did not become the First Minister of France by being so petty.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently all I know how to write are confrontations in offices involving Peter Capaldi characters! Anyway thanks for reading; I love this fandom and wanted to add to it.


End file.
